Raging Revenant
by Mickis
Summary: When the hotheaded duo head into battle together, they find themselves way in over their heads, resulting in Casey’s tragic death. Now, almost a year later, rumors of a vigilante phantom start plaguing the streets of NYC.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the turtles, I don't own their friends, nor do I own their enemies. Huh. I guess that doesn't leave me with much, does it? 'Cept for the idea for this fic, of course! (marks story with sticker that says: 'Property of Mickis')

**A/N:** _Someone really needs to stop me from starting new stories like this, especially when I can't seem to finish them. It's just.. there are so many ideas. Some of them get written, some of them don't. Others evolve into chapters, while a few of them are finished. I dunno.. it's just the way my imagination works. I can get bored with something quite easily. I really tried to pick up either of the ones I have going now, I really did. But my Muse didn't want to. She pretty much does whatever she wants, and she wanted to do something different. I've been writing too much angst lately, and I think she noticed. (That's why I wrote 'Afterlife Inc,' I just needed that brief piece of comedy out of my system). _

_But anyway, about _this_ story. Well, I don't know what to say that isn't already in the summary. Maybe I should point out that it's a Raph story, for those who care. It was beta read by the wonderful talent that is **Dierdre**, so go read her stuff if ya haven't already. Really, go read them! Err.. once you've read _this,_ of course. (sheepish smile) Hmm.. that about covers it, I think. Happy reading and don't forget to review!_

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**RAGING REVENANT**

by

Mickis

**Genre:** Suspense/Drama

**Language: **English

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **_When the hotheaded duo head into battle together, they find themselves way in over their heads, resulting in Casey's tragic death. Now, almost a year later, rumors of a vigilante phantom start plaguing the streets of NYC._

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**Prologue**

Traveling with a speed he didn't think possible, Michelangelo ran alongside his two brothers down the sewer tunnels of New York City, their feet splashing up a turbulent trail of water behind them. It was a race against time in tunnels so dark even the sharpest panther couldn't make its way through. Even Mike, who knew these tunnels better than he did himself, occasionally found the darkness confusing him in the midst of his panic. He had played in these tunnels as a child, even though strictly told not to, and he'd traveled through them for years now. He _knew_ them. Still, he found himself listening for his brothers' steps, trying to make out their moving shapes in the thick-coated blackness, using them like a compass in the pandemonium.

It was so hard to stay focused on which way to turn when every single thought he knew was utterly devoted to his third brother.

He had no idea if he was hurt, or perhaps even dead. All he knew was that he'd made a call for backup a few minutes ago, and even though he hadn't been the one to answer, he could tell by the look of fear on Donnie's face that it was urgent. He couldn't possibly live with himself if they came too late. He knew in his heart that he couldn't go on with his life after witnessing his beloved brother's tortured, dead body, which was why he pushed himself as hard as he did.

He broke every limit of his body that was physically possible.

His breath slit like razors in his tight throat, and his strength had long since been taken by the heavy tramping through the sewage water. Beneath the upper plates of his plastron, he could feel his heart racing like a wild horse, leaping beyond his control. But he kept running, obsessively, desperately. He wasn't going to stop just because his body wanted him to.

Finally, when he'd begin to fear he was going to pass out from exhaustion, the splashing ahead of him stopped, as did the noise behind him. The only sound was the soft thrumming of the sewer pipes, along with the occasional dripping of water. Had he not known where he was, he might have guessed it was in the damp tunnels of a forsaken cave, cold drops of water falling from the rocky ceiling above them.

"This is it," the oldest turtle declared, panting for air even as he spoke. "This is the street."

Breathlessly, Mikey nodded in the darkness and waited for Leo to start climbing towards the surface, before he made his way to the iron ladder and grabbed the rusty, wet rung. Taking in a much-needed breath of air, he lifted his right foot from the cold water and heaved himself up the ladder with his arms, his muscles practically screaming at him to leave them alone, begging for rest to come and nurture them. After getting a proper foothold with his wet feet, the climbing got easier, and he found the time to discover the numbing drum of his own pulse in his temples, trying to catch up with his fatigued body.

Soon, the grating sound of a heavy manhole cover woke up his senses as the lid scraped against the rugged asphalt, introducing his eyes to a faint, artificial light he'd found himself missing in the tunnels. Casting a quick glance downwards, he noticed Don was close behind him, panting lightly as he ascended the ladder. Waiting for their leader to surface, Mike watched as the blue-masked turtle suspiciously scanned the alley for any possible threats before allowing the clan to reveal themselves. Once he had decided it was clear, Leonardo gracefully heaved himself up to street level, rising to his full height and arming himself with his twin katana.

Michelangelo sped up his pace and soon felt the hard, wet surface of the pavement beneath his hands, and he lifted himself up with both his palms pressed to the ground. Standing up next to his apprehensive brother, he quickly reached for his nunchakus on either side of his belt, checking the leader's expression for any signs of danger.

It was quiet. The blind alley had nothing but an overstuffed container and a few puddles of rain that had fallen earlier that day, transformed into black water in the yellow glow from the street light outside. It was strange. There should have been at least the sound of a struggle.

"Don," Leo cautiously said, turning to the purple-masked turtle as he got up from the manhole. "You sure we're on the right street?"

"I.. I think so," Donatello answered, as though he was uncertain of his own words. Armed with his bo staff in his hands, the turtle carefully walked up to the exit of the alley, peeking his head around the corner of the building. Not detecting any danger, he quickly turned to look up at the green street sign ahead of him. "This is the one," he called back in a hushed whisper to his brothers. "I remember; that's the name he gave me."

Nodding in the darkness, Leo grabbed a firmer hold of his swords and approached Donnie where he stood with his shell glued to the brick wall. Mike quickly followed his example, his senses running on full power, waiting for anything unexpected to happen. He nervously adjusted his hold on his chucks, rubbing the sweaty leather with his thumbs. He didn't like the feel of this. There should have been noises, any kind of sign of struggle. Raph wouldn't have called unless he felt it absolutely necessary to do so. A battle_ that _destructive should have left something behind, if only something small that was invisible to the untrained eye. But there was nothing. Nothing but the pounding sound of his own pulse, and it was beginning to scare him to the point where he almost thought he would drop to his knees and release a profound scream of agonized frustration.

He had to be okay. He just _had_ to.

"All right," Leonardo spoke up, turning to look at his two siblings with a stern expression on his features. "We have to split up. They might've moved someplace else." Mike and Don nodded in agreement, eager to go and look for their brother. "The _first_ sign of them, you call for help, okay?" Leo gravely insisted, his voice risen to the point where it nearly sounded life-threatening.

"Okay," Mikey said, while Donatello simply nodded solemnly in agreement.

Without deciding which way each turtle was meant to go, all three brothers split up and hurried off in separate directions, their feet barely grazing the asphalt as they ran along the damp pavement with a grace that held a lifetime of practice.

Michelangelo thoroughly scanned each alley he passed, hoping to find any clues as to what had happened to the hothead, and even though he flawlessly stuck to the shadows as he'd been taught, he couldn't shake off the constant sense of danger that whispered in his ear, taunting him. He felt very uneasy while topside without a disguise to hide his monstrous identity behind. But there hadn't been any time to worry about wardrobe when they'd hurried out the lair, leaving their worried master behind, his only company the torturing visions of his own fears.

Making sure there were no witnesses, no passing cars in the night, Mike quickly snuck out the alleyway and sprinted down the street to dive into the next. As expected, it turned out this alley was as empty as the others, nothing but garbage and a few rusty fire escapes to greet him. But just to be on the safe side, he cautiously stepped further down the back street; scanning every corner as if it had been the very first he'd set his eyes on.

Then, coming from the other side of the street, further down the block, Donatello's alarmed voice called out for his brothers, rising above everything else in the city. And while Mikey had been waiting for a call just like that, he quickly found himself regretting his wishes once the fear in that voice registered in his head.

Something was terribly wrong.

Fear and panic quickly ate away at the faint stream of hope he'd been holding within him. He knew he wouldn't like the sight he would be introduced to, yet he didn't object as his instincts took over and forced him to sprint towards the alley from which the scream had risen.

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Turning the dark corner, Mike suddenly froze in his steps. No matter how vivid the pictures his fear had painted for him, he'd been unsuccessful in preparing himself for the scene he was faced with; everyone was when shock sought them out. A fresh, metallic stench viciously reached his nostrils, sending him into a whirlwind of flashbacks. He couldn't possibly ignore the smell - it was so undeniable, so familiar to him - he physically felt the imaginary taste of the fluid in his own mouth, thick and warm on his tongue.

It was blood. And the realization of it made his entire being race with insanity.

There were so many things happening all at once: his heartbeat quickening, his vision faltering… his stomach churning. What all these things had in common was that he had no control over them. He couldn't do anything but stand there – and look.

Had it not been for the fact that his eyes were so used to darkness, trained to cooperate with it, he wouldn't have been able to see a thing. It was so dark in there, strangely dark. However, what he could make out in the darkness was that one of the two containers against the wall had been knocked over, and that the oil-black trash bags were littered all over the concrete, some of them gutted open like animals. It looked like a couple of bear cubs had found their way to the scene and knocked themselves out with delight. Of course, this being in the heart of New York City, that wasn't very likely. And there, amongst the garbage, lay several corpses of men, left to wallow in the puddles of their own death.

It was no wonder the smell of blood hit him with the head-spinning force it had.

There, on the wet street of clays, Donatello kneeled with his head lowered in worry, and in front of him was Raphael – motionless. The red-masked turtle lay on his plastron, one of his arms stretched out by his head, as though he were resting on it. It was too dark to make out his expression, but Michelangelo prayed to any god he could think of that there was still life in that face.

The image he was faced with was so powerful; it was near well historic, almost even artistic. He felt as though his mind had painted a picture of his two brothers in the moonlight, their blackened silhouettes forever etched into his memory. Like if there for some reason ever came a time when he would only remember one memory, that image would be the one that stuck – and it wouldn't be intentionally. But the impact of it was so strong; he just knew he wouldn't be able to forget it, no matter what the circumstances.

Donnie frantically moved his hands over their brother's body, as if he was looking for something but wasn't quite sure what. Then, with his head slightly thrown back, he ruggedly called out a second time, "Leo! Mike! Get the hell over he--" Turning around, his cry was instantly cut short. "Mikey!" he exclaimed, relief breaking into his voice as he spotted his younger brother, but it didn't chase away his distress for very long. "Raph... he... You've gotta help me," he finished, his face unreadable in the darkness.

Mike swallowed every emotion he could push down his throat and rushed up to his brother, stepping over the nameless enemies on the battlefield. When reaching up to the scene, he felt another breath of hope choke inside of him.

His brother had dozens of cuts over his body, and from what he could tell, there appeared to be twice as many bruises. But what scared him the most was the frozen look of terror on his features; his eyes squeezed shut in a kind of agony he had never witnessed before. Especially not on Raph's face, for he always did his best to dress it with crude smirks and deadly stares that could send even the bravest of soldiers shaking in their boots. But none of his brother's expressions had scared him as bad as the one he was looking at now.

_God, Raph_, he whispered sadly in his mind. _What happened to ya?_

As if smelling his brother's fear, Don chose that moment to speak, his eyes still glued to Raph's body. "They're not that deep," he said in a low tone. "But with this many cuts, he could very well bleed to death if we don't get him patched up."

Mike nodded mutely, frantically. Even though his brother's state was very bad, he'd been able to cling to a faint stream of hope, knowing there was still life in him; knowing there was something left for him to save.

"You need to find something to bandage him up with," Don continued, his sensitive hands running over Raph's body, searching for cuts and injuries his eyes couldn't find in the darkness. "A scarf, a pant leg. I dunno, _any _kind of clothing to stop the blood flow. Check the bodies."

"Sure thing," Mike answered, tearing his eyes from his wounded brother and resting them on the first form he could find in the darkness. He bent forward and rested his weight on his heels as he pulled the bloodstained sweatshirt over the man's ruffled head of blonde hair, uncovering a big tattoo on his chest that could only mean one thing.

Purple dragons.

The large dragon stretched over the man's pale, hairless chest like an expanding fire, its face twisted into an evil sneer that could love nothing. The eyes consisted of nothing but two simple, soulless holes, as if someone had put a hammer right through the skull. Nothing had much color in the moonlight, but Mike knew from experience that the dragon's skin had a deep, rich shade of red… almost like blood.

He felt a flush of fury wash over him, like a parent would when standing face to face with the person that had raped their daughter, but decided to save it for another time by forcefully gritting his teeth in anger. There was no time for revenge; he could always pound on the rest of the thugs later. There was only room for thoughts of his brother in the present - if not, he might not be there to see the future. He violently ripped the sweater in two, the sound of torn cotton erupting in his ears, and left the man to his fate, not caring whether he was dead or not. When standing on his feet to look for the next body to rob, the rising sound of running footsteps caught his attention. Spinning around to face the exit of the alley, he saw the eldest brother appear around the corner.

"Leo!" he cried in relief, feeling as though all their problems were solved now that the last brother had joined up with the rest of them. Leonardo would know what to do. He'd put their minds into perspective and steer this situation around to the point where things started to make sense again.

He quickly caught up to Donnie and Raph and stared at the red-masked turtle with a shaded expression. "What happened?" he demanded, never taking his eyes off of his injured brother.

"I don't know," Donatello answered, shaking his head as he stared at his unconscious sibling. "I-I found him like this."

Leo swallowed stiffly. "Is he…?"

"No," Don quickly spoke up, looking up at the blue-masked turtle. "No, he's alive. But we need to get him home as soon as possible. Find _any_thing we can use to stop the bleeding."

Leo nodded firmly, taking one of his swords from its sheath with his right hand. That's when Mikey suddenly remembered, shaking his head out of his temporary daze. "Oh right," he said to himself, stepping up to Don with what was left of the dark gray sweater. "I found this," he said, offering them to his brother.

"Thanks," Donatello mumbled briefly, snatching the cloth from his hand and moving to tie one of the pieces tightly around Raphael's right leg. Then, when sure the knot was secured, he moved on to tearing the last cloth into even smaller pieces. "I need more, though," he added quietly.

Michelangelo nodded and moved away to look for another person whose clothes he could steal. Walking past the first goon he'd stripped, he quickly bent over to inspect the next. Recognizing the hooded mask pulled over the man's face, Mike knew this wasn't a regular Purple dragon member; the outfit belonged to the Foot, the city's most feared criminals. But that was before…

"Leo," he called, still bent over the body. "Come take a look at this."

The blue-clad turtle quickly made his way over the bodies and hunched forward to get a closer look at the man. "The Foot," he whispered grimly in recognition. Mike could taste the passionate hate in his words, a hate he could easily relate to.

"That's why he called for backup," Mike realized, turning to look at his eldest brother. "That's why he needed our help!" He felt like the pieces were gradually falling together.

Leonardo nodded in agreement, his voice calm and controlled as he spoke, "Yeah, it's a possibility we've discussed. It was only a matter of time until they decided to surface again."

"Yeah, but why now?" Mikey wondered. "I mean, it's been over a year. Why come back _now_?" The Foot had been without a leader ever since Shredder buried himself under that pier all those nights ago. It didn't make any sense why they'd come back now, all of a sudden.

Leonardo grabbed a firmer hold of his sword, bending closer as he lifted the sapless man by his collar and tore the garment apart with his blade. "Building an army takes time, Mike," he simply said while working. "There's safety in numbers. I'm guessing they've recruited enough members to take us out, or at least attempt."

"What?" Mike outburst, feeling anger boil up inside of him as he spoke. "So they're just gonna go back to harassing the city like nothing happened?"

Leonardo dropped the body to the ground with a faint crack as the back of the head smashed into the pavement. "Not if I have anything to say about it," he replied, holding a collection of shredded fabric in his left hand as he rose to his full height.

"We can deal with that later," Donnie spoke up from behind them. "Hand me the cloths, Leo," he said, holding out an open palm in the darkness were he sat by Raphael's battered body. "His pulse is growing weaker by the minute. Besides," he added, looking down at their brother, "a fight like this one is bound to attract the cops."

Stung by the statement, Leo quickly hurried over to his brother with the makeshift bandage. Mike reminded himself to make himself useful and continued on toward the next body he could spot. Suddenly, he felt a sharp sensation beneath his foot, along with a subdued crushing sound that filled the alley. "Mother of… _shit_!" he hissed, alerting his other two siblings.

"What happened?" Leonardo immediately asked and shifted to a defensive stance, as if he'd been expecting an attack in the darkness.

Taking a step back, Mikey took his right foot in his left hand, discovering a piece of glass imbedded in the hardened skin. "No biggie," he answered, while reaching for the shard with his right hand. "Just stepped in some glass." He hissed in pain as he shifted the shard to get it out, not expecting it to hurt as much as it did. Then, after making up his mind to get it over with, he tightly gritted his teeth and pulled the piece out, still intact; it was the size of a bottle cap. The gash in his foot was left open to bleed freely, and he was far from a doctor, but he suspected the cut was pretty deep. He angrily threw the bloody piece aside and gently put his foot down on the ground, trying to block out the pain and stand on the sore foot.

"Is it bad?" Donatello asked where he sat, concern dripping off of his words. "Maybe you should take care of that before yo--"

"It's not that bad," Mike quickly assured his brother, offering him a swift smile as he turned around to look at him. "I'll live." Admittedly, it hurt like hell, but there was no time to worry about a tiny gash in his foot when his brother was bleeding to death a few feet away. One cut wasn't even worth mentioning compared to Raphael's tortured state.

Mike bent forward to look for the source of the injury, and quickly discovered dozens of glass shards spread across the concrete, all in different shapes and sizes. He reached for a random piece and inspected it further, shifting the shard in his hand. It was convex, and quite thick in size. Acting on instinct, Michelangelo turned his gaze upward, where he discovered a shattered streetlight attached to the brick wall, not that high above him.

It had been an ambush.

Raph had probably been battling the dragons like always, when the Foot suddenly dropped in, uninvited and unexpected. They were ninjas, after all, and all ninjas attacked in the dark. What he didn't understand, though, was how Raph could have found the time to make that call. Albeit, it had been a very short and vague phone call; all he'd given them was the name of the street and the order to get there. But with an army of bloodthirsty Foot soldiers on his back, there shouldn't have been any time for such phone calls. And why had they left him alive? Had he taken out all of them and collapsed on his own because of the blood loss? Had they believed he was already dead, or just left him on the brink of death assuming he'd pass on by himself?

Pondering on these questions, Mikey bent over the next body, overwhelmed by the strong scent of blood. He wouldn't exactly call himself squeamish, but the man in question was lying on his back in a pool of his own blood; the metallic stench was enough for most people to pass out. His clothes were drenched in the fluid, so he was of no use to him. But when Mike was about to stand up, something inside of him suddenly told him to stay, as if there was something he had to see. Giving the man a second look, Mike realized it wasn't a member of the Foot. His face was uncovered where he lay on the asphalt. Looking closer, Mikey suddenly felt a sharp pain explode in his gut.

_Oh god..._

As silent tears welled up in his eyes, Mike was forced to hold back the impulse to vomit. He recognized this man, he _knew_ this man. It was one of his few friends, and now he found himself standing over his murdered body.

_Casey…_

It was so sudden, so unexpected. It was as if grief had struck him like lightening on a beautiful summer day, coming down from the bluest of skies in a powerful, instant blast, hitting him full force. God, it was Casey. Casey! He wasn't even supposed to be here! How could that dead man be his friend? Raph hadn't said anything about meeting up with Casey. He hadn't mentioned him during his brief phone call. This was all so wrong! None of it made any sense, and Mikey found himself shaking his head through his tears.

Casey lay on his back, vulnerable and unmasked of his alter ego. They had deprived him of his hockey mask and slit him across his throat. One final, flawless slit, convicting him to a death there was no return from. The blood had spilled over his shabby sweatshirt and drenched his wild, brown hair; Mike was even standing in it! There was blood everywhere, and all of it was Casey's. Mikey didn't even know a single human body could hold this much blood; he almost found the sight extravagant. The vigilante's glassy, brown eyes were facing upwards, an eternal look of suffering burned into them, catching that very last moment of his life like a camera.

_Oh god!_

Unable to control himself, Mike turned away from the corpse and retched onto the pavement, the contents of his dinner splattering across the asphalt as his stomach muscles contracted and released another load. It seemed it didn't matter how many times he emptied his stomach by his feet; the sour taste of acid was constant in his mouth. He vaguely heard his brothers calling out to him in the background, worry laced in their voices, but he couldn't do anything but gag, and he couldn't focus on anything else but that frozen look of pain on his friend's pale, dead face.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_Hey everyone! Before any of you throw any of those rotten fruit and vegetables I can very clearly see behind your backs, I would like to start this little author's note by apologizing for my unaccepted lateness. My computer went down, so I had no access to any of my fics (torture I tell ya. TORTURE!) But after a lo-hot of nagging, my dad finally got around to fix it. So there ya have it. Like before, the chapter was edited by the amazingly talented… uh, talent -_** Dierdre**_! Bow to her literary power! Um… yeah. Oh, and before I forget, my response to my reviews will from hereon out be posted on my TMNT forum under my very own author forum/thread, named: 'Mickis.' Go look 'em up! The link for the place can be found on my profile here at fanfiction(dot)net. Just click on the 'homepage' link and you should get here without any major trouble._

_Enjoy and don't forget to review! You DO know how much I love your reviews, don't cha?_

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**Chapter 1**

Irritation surged through his body and the itchy feeling spread across the room like an airborne disease, hunting and corrupting everything in its way. The entire apartment was veiled under brooding clouds of aggravation, and the sour emotion dripped unto their sensitive skin like occasional beads of burgeoning rain. The drizzle was speaking of an oncoming storm, one Raphael did nothing to prevent. Instead, he kept a solid hold on the remote, repeatedly switching channels with his restless thumb, flashing the slightly darkened apartment in a broad variety of blinking colors. The light coming from the floor lamp that stood in the corner of the spotless living room carried just enough power to light up his older brother's irritated features, which he could secretly spot out of the corner of his left eye; carefully, so as not to let him know he was observing him. The leader's body language seemed to grow angrier with every channel he changed, until he finally folded his arms over his plastron in protest.

"Seriously, Raph," he said quietly, as though afraid raising his voice too loud would lead to another argument of theirs, "you couldn't _possibly_ know what's on any of these channels with the speed you're flicking past them."

The red-clad turtle turned to his brother with an expressionless face, having expected a similar remark for the past thirty seconds. "I know it ain't worth watchin'," he confidently replied, turning back to abusing the remote control.

"How _could_ you?" Leo questioned, a little louder than before as his patience noticeably began to wear thin. "You won't even stay on the same channel for more than a second!"

"If it bothers ye so damn much, juz do us both a fava' an' go ta bed," Raph rigidly answered, keeping his gaze fixated on the expensive flat screen TV that hung on the opposite wall, a sharp contrast to the beat up set they had back at the lair. April had offered to buy them a new one, but Splinter insisted she had more important matters to spend her money on. Staring at the fancy TV, Raph fastened his grip on the remote control and welcomed his anger. He couldn't believe his brother - he even made channel surfing boring, which was why he didn't want him here in the first place. It was supposed to be a weekend by himself - singular.

In the morning, that very same day, April had gone out of town to attend a funeral upstate. One of her neighbors up by the farmhouse had just passed away, and since April had played there a lot when she was little it didn't feel right not to offer the old woman her last goodbyes. Raph had instantly seen an opportunity to take a breather from his family and offered to housesit her apartment while she was gone; the news reporter saw nothing wrong in this and appreciatively gave the turtle her keys along with her trust. Leo, however, didn't like the idea of him with an apartment to himself, and had quickly insisted he'd join him. Raphael had been less than pleased, but with April's and his sensei's agreement it soon became clear that it was best if there were two turtles for the job. They made it sound like Leonardo was there to keep him company – two people being safer than one – but their petty excuses didn't fool him. The reason for their agreement to the suggestion was pretty obvious – the heedless ninja needed a mature role model to baby-sit him, someone like the flawless brother in blue.

What had been meant to serve his nerves a break quickly ended up driving Raph up the walls. The two of them were clearly not meant to spend any one-on-one time together; he didn't even see any reason for this baby-sitting adventure. He wasn't exactly in any position to throw a party behind their backs, and he was far too old for a nanny - eighteen years should have taught them to trust him. But, as it was, he found himself spending his Saturday night with the one person that could tap-dance all over his nerves simply by doing nothing but breathing, and that was only _one_ of his brother's hidden talents.

By the end of this accursed weekend, Raph was sure he'd be the killer of either Leo or himself.

"Wait," Leo suddenly exclaimed, cutting into Raph's angered thoughts and instinctively reaching out a hand to get his attention. "Go back."

Turning to look at the blue-masked turtle with an uninterested stare, Raphael blatantly asked, "Why?"

"Just go back," Leo insisted, obviously too tired to give his brother a solid reason, following tonight's trendy pattern of lack of talking.

Raph rolled his eyes surreptitiously and switched back to the previous channel, which turned out to be the History Channel. It was a documentary on different types of tanks that had been used during World War II, retired survivors sharing their stories of being behind the wheels. Without any further thoughts on the subject, Raph casually continued with his channel surfing.

"Wai-- what are you doing?" Leo demanded, turning to his brother with an exasperated expression, the vexation evident in his eyes.

"Ye think I'd actually wanna watch that?" Raph countered, staring blankly at Leo, greedily holding the power of choice in his hand. He caught his brother glancing at the remote in botheration, his hazel brown eyes thirsting for it.

"You've been through the channels _three_ times," Leo slowly responded, as though he physically had to keep his emotions on a leash. "There's _nothing_ you wanna watch. Now go back to the documentary," he said, briefly waving his hand at the TV, "because - unlike you - I actually wanna watch TV."

Tired of his company's behavior, Raphael rose from the couch and tossed the small remote with an angry grunt; the control bounced off the crème white cushions of the couch and landed conveniently close to the other turtle, who casually grabbed the remote to watch his show, seemingly unaffected by what had just occurred. Raph sent him a fuming glare, knowing he had to leave to keep the argument from evolving into a full-blown fight. Kicking a white couch cushion that had dropped to the floor, Raph left the living room with heavy steps and set his course on the spotless kitchen area, inwardly cursing everything related to Leo's existence.

The reporter's apartment was very open, living room and kitchen basically being one and the same, and dirt was a myth yet to be discovered inside her walls. Everything at April's place was a drastic contrast to their home, where uninvited roaches were still an occasional problem. She enjoyed burnishing her flat, and even though Raph would never tell her, he thought she might have taken the 'home sweet home' concept a bit too far. In his eyes, the entire place looked like a random page in the IKEA catalogue; the apartment was covered in expensive laminate floors, matching the different types of wallpapers in each room, whereas the walls were dressed in old paintings she'd kept from her antique store, giving the place a woman's warm touch. As for the furniture, every single one was carefully selected to go with her clean, simple taste.

The kitchen looked like a part of an expensive restaurant, most of her appliances being made out of stainless steel. The refrigerator was big enough to fit a grown person, and the stove had so many talents Raph sometimes wondered if you could program it to think for itself. Above the bar counter, a set of polished pots hung from the ceiling, their shiny, polished surfaces catching the ceiling light perfectly. Raph wasn't a very tidy person, but when cooking pasta at her stove earlier, he carefully made sure he covered his tracks and left everything identical to the way they were when he first arrived. He knew from experience that April wouldn't get mad if she came home to find her kitchen dirty, but it felt like a crime to leave a stain in her flawless household.

He quickly passed the dimly lit kitchen, unaffectedly, bent on keeping as much distance between him and Leonardo as possible. Once reaching the slightly open window at the far side of the room, however, he could do nothing but stop. Leaning his arms on the pinewood windowsill, he tried to surrender his thoughts and senses to the world outside of the sixth floor apartment - the view facing the open street outside of the building - but the faint sound coming from the TV in the living room persistently pierced his awareness, reminding him of his uninvited brother's presence.

_Maybe I should juz go ta bed_, he considered, knowing his nerves wouldn't get any rest as long as they were within hearing range of the eldest ninja, but as time passed the details outside the apartment seemed to outgrow the ones indoor. It was a calm night, and the half-moon seemed to shower the city with a kind of peace he didn't connect with the Big Apple. Usually, there was always something going down, whether it was a violent gang fight or just someone trying to break into one of the cars that stood parked by the sidewalk alongside the apartment complex. Tonight, though, everything seemed to work together to calm his itchy nerves, the stars in the dark October sky presenting a puzzle even forever couldn't solve, and the only sound in the night was the faint engine of the occasional vehicle that drove by.

His nerves were soon fast asleep, and the sound coming from the TV was long gone, replaced by the image of peaceful concrete; the City That Never Slept had finally closed its eyes for a few hours of undisturbed slumber.

Or so he assumed.

Piercing the silence was the clamorous sound of a heavy garbage bin being knocked over, followed by the loud noise of someone landing amongst the trash. Raph was surprised to find how quickly his being lit up, as if he'd been longing and waiting for something like this to happen, but the emotions that followed afterwards were very familiar to him. Adrenaline always washed over him whenever he was about to engage in battle, and this time was no different.

With every muscle flexing in anticipation, he turned around to Leo with an eager smirk decorating his features. The turtle on the couch looked at him with a questioning expression, still holding the remote in his now relaxed grip.

"What?" he finally asked when Raph wouldn't offer an explanation for his sudden change of demeanor.

Picking up his pair of sai from the circle-shaped kitchen table on his right, Raph answered the question on his way over to the living room window they used to exit and enter the apartment, "There's trouble goin' down in one a' the alleys across the street." With his palms pressed against the bottom of the window, Raph pushed the wooden frame upwards, creating a big enough gap for a humanoid turtle to fit through.

"Where'd you put our trench coats?" Leo asked behind him as the soft sound of the TV suddenly ceased.

But Raphael was already halfway out the window, one of his feet placed on the low windowsill to jump onto the narrow fire escape on the other side. "Who cares?" he called over his shoulder, excitement running through his system like a drug. "We might miss it if w--"

"We're not leaving without a disguise," Leo firmly cut in, causing Raph to pause in his stance by the window and look over his shoulder, where the stubborn leader stood in the living room, his swords already strapped onto his back and his shaded eyes locked on him in determination.

Raphael gritted his teeth in irritation, holding his brother's firm stare with venomous eyes. This was exactly why he didn't want him to come: he always sucked the fun right out of a room. Nevertheless, Raph knew it was futile to argue, and it was precious time he couldn't afford to waste.

"_Fine_," he spat in surrender, putting his right foot back to the cool surface of the laminate floor. Without any further words uttered, he left for the bedroom to fetch their trench coats and fedoras that he'd tossed on the bed when they first arrived, a few hours earlier.

* * *

Releasing his hold on the cragged fire escape rung, Raphael dropped the seven feet that separated him from the ground and welcomed the concrete beneath his feet with a habitual bend of his knees. A soft, splashing thud revealed his presence to the rats that craved shelter in the light-shunning alley, convincing them to stay hidden in the shadows where they spent most of their time. Raph cast a quick glance at his elder brother as he descended the ladder before turning on his heel and sprinting across the back street with a swift, almost effortless movement. Gluing his left shoulder blade to the brickwork, he anticipatively peeked his head around the corner and searched for the particular alley that had first caught his attention, his heart quickening with yearning for the oncoming confrontation. 

His eyes hungrily traveled down the empty block, his senses trying to pick up on the noise he'd caught from the apartment window a few minutes ago, but nothing audible emerged from either of the alleyways, and it left him with an almost tangible sense of disappointment.

_Had he juz left when I told 'im_... he inwardly growled, choking the hilt of his belted sai in a bitter grip. As if he'd been vocally addressed, the turtle in question came up beside him, his body moving as one with the night.

"Anything?"

Raph turned his head to the other shoulder, meeting the alert face of his blue-masked brother. "Does it look like it?" he questioned angrily, causing his brother to furrow his eye ridges in irritation. Turning back to scan the alleys across the street, Raph quietly added under his breath, "Told ya we shoulda' left right away."

"At the risk of being exposed?" Leo evenly replied beside him. "I don't think so. Let's head out," he added after another moment of silence.

Before Raphael had the chance to respond, the leader soundlessly slipped by him and darted across the street, gracefully slipping into one of the very back streets he had been spying on. Grumbling inwardly, Raph adjusted his collar – hiding his features inside the safety of the coat – and checked for any cars before he followed his brother's example and hurried across the open street. As soon as he'd caught up to his sibling he knew all wasn't lost, for he recognized an observant gleam in the leader's eyes that could only mean he'd picked up on something.

"What?" Raph impatiently wondered, peering out the exit of the alley that temporarily served as their shelter.

"You hear that?" Leo asked, staring at nothing in particular as he tried to localize the sound. Straining his ears, Raphael tried to catch what his brother was referring to but was disappointed when unable to do so. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. In fact, it was strangely quiet, just like it had been before the short ruckus had alerted him.

Leo, however, suddenly straightened himself in the darkness, an instant realization washing over his formerly distant features. "This way," he said, dashing toward the fire escape that was attached to the opposite wall. He began climbing, his swords waggling against his shell in tune with his steps.

Raph quickly hurried after him, grabbing the cold metal rung of the ladder and heaving himself up with his arms the first few steps before drawing power from his legs, the occasional metallic racket of the old fire escape echoing dully in his ears as he climbed. When able to peer his head above the edge of the roof, he spotted his brother on the far side of the apartment platform, cautiously gazing out over the darkened city that rested ignorantly twelve stories beneath them. Pulling himself up with his arms, Raph swung one leg over the concrete edge and artlessly skipped over the low cement wall that framed the entire rooftop. He mutely made his way over to his sibling, stopping on his left side with curiosity boiling inside of him, tickling his fingertips with the need for attention.

"What?" Raph urged, trying to read the distant expression on his elder brother's face.

Leo held up a hand to silence him, his senses taking in things in the city Raph couldn't detect. "Listen," the leader whispered, turning his head as if to get a better sound of whatever it was he heard.

"For what?" Raph short-temperedly asked, earning a strict glare from his brother, reprimanding him without uttering so much as a single syllable.

Releasing a short breath of irritation, Raph slumped his shoulders in an attempt to calm down and closed his eyes to better take in all his surroundings via his ears. In the beginning, he could hear nothing but the drumming of his own impatient pulse, but after a while, when allowing himself to sink to a deeper level than the simplicity of closed eyelids, a level where even thoughts came in the hushed echo of a whisper, he was able to grasp the faint sound of distant sobbing.

_Tears_, he realized with a start as he opened his eyes.

Someone was crying, not very loud, but still loud enough for someone who was listening to hear. Glancing at Leo, Raph nodded as the leader took a few steps back to collect enough power to carry him from their building to the next.

Mimicking his brother's actions, Raph cautiously walked a good eight steps backwards before he succumbed to the constant fire that burned inside of him and dashed across the concrete.The toes on his right foot curled around the edge of the rooftop for additional force as he pushed himself off the ledge and sailed through the air, the harsh wind blowing viciously in his ears. Bending down once hitting the safety of solid ground - the warm, victorious feeling of survival spreading throughout his limbs for a short, intoxicating second - Raph briefly brushed the rooftop with the fingertips of his right hand before rising to his full height and running after his elder brother, who was already flying through the air to access the next building.

Only a few moments later, he found himself looking down at the source of the tears.

Eight stories below them, the dark alley was scattered with bodies, possibly six or seven of them, while huddled in the far corner of the alley, desperately pressed up against the solidity of a rusty container, a petite form sobbed quietly. A sudden chill of eeriness blossomed in the pit of Raph's stomach, one he instinctively pushed aside before he was able to properly identify it.

"Maybe we should just call the cops," Leo quietly suggested to his right, as though he'd been visited by the same disturbing feeling.

"What?" Raph questioned in surprise when turning to meet his brother's calm eyes. "No," he quickly objected. Looking down at the scene, he wondered what had happened, and why that one person was left to their own misery. It wasn't like the Foot to leave witnesses behind. In fact, it wasn't like _any_ remotely sane criminal to do something so careless. "No," he determinately repeated, shaking his head to himself. "I wanna know what went down."

"Raph, we don't have to this time," Leonardo quietly reminded him, "and if we could avoid showing ourselves, I really think we should. It's not a chance we get very often," he later added, softly.

Raphael turned back to look at his brother, his eyes narrowed in determination. "Don't tell me ya don't wanna know what happened, Leo," he firmly said, detecting a gleam of curiosity hidden in the depths of the blue-clad turtle's eyes. "Fer someone ta take out seven guys in juz a few minutes, ye know it goes beyond the common street fight."

"Schhh!" Leo hushed him, worried eyes glancing down the alley to see if they had been noticed.

"Relax, Leo," Raph sniggered. "Eight stories up, rememba'?"

"That's no reason to push our luck," the leader gravely insisted, peering down the alley in worry.

"C'mon," Raph said, nudging his brother in the side with his left elbow. "Don't be such a tightass all the time." The ninja met him with a stern glare, one that reminded him of how tough tonight's crowd truly was. "You know I'm right, Leo," he added in a more serious tone, giving up on trying to convert his brother with humor. "Somethin's not straight 'ere."

The eldest turtle looked at him in silence, his troubled mind taking in the words and processing them before coming to a decision and revealing the final verdict. "All right," he reluctantly surrendered, flaring up the restrained fire inside Raphael. "But you'd better keep that coat on real tight," he then added. "We're not going in to advertise ourselves." With that, the leader turned on his heal and headed back the way they came, intent on descending the fire escape on the opposite side of the rooftop to avoid attracting attention when entering the alley.

* * *

Standing by the street corner – afraid to be seen and eager to go inside – Raph observed his older brother as he carefully checked the state of the motionless bodies to the best of his abilities, despite the fairly wide distance between them. The soulful sound of sobbing was even stronger now that they were standing on street level, and Raph imagined that they were the tears of a girl, or at the very least a young woman. 

_Maybe Leo was right_, he secretly thought, unwilling to admit such a thing to his brother. Maybe they should have called the cops; the last thing she needed was a pair of snooping, giant turtles dressed in nothing but trench coats and hats topping off her night.

"Okay," Leo whispered, still facing the darkness of the alley as he addressed his brother. "I think they're down for the count, but I can't tell if they're just unconscious or... you know," he said, knowingly glancing at Raphael over his right shoulder. "I'll get a closer look while you make sure the, uh... he or she's okay," he hesitantly instructed, visibly waiting for Raph to nod before he made his way inside the alley.

Walking behind Leonardo as they stepped inside the blind alley, Raph noticed the form by the dumpster sitting up in sudden fright. Leo stopped in his tracks to turn back to look at him, uncertainty shining through in his worried stare. "Go easy, okay?"

Raphael grinned briefly in response – knowing that would only worry the leader even more – and doing it for that very reason. "'Course," he confidently answered, watching as the eldest turtle shook his head and made his way over to inspect the closest body, who was lying face down on the asphalt.

Raph set his course towards the person at the far end of the alley, who was still huddled against the container, as if thinking pressing herself close enough to the foul object would make her invisible to his eyes. Even the crying had stopped.

Raph gently made his way over the heap of bodies, careful not to scare what indeed proved to be a young woman. Her frightened behavior gradually pulled at his own nerves, making him feel less and less sure of himself the closer to her he got.

He just knew she was going to scream.

When close enough to talk to her, yet the ten feet separation keeping her from spotting his true identity in the darkness, he stopped. He noticed how she started hyperventilating, as if trying to hold back the tears she shed earlier.

"S'okay," he said, holding up his hands in front of his chest to prove he meant no harm. "I ain't gonna hurt'cha." Just as he was done making that point clear, the woman suddenly broke down in tears again, this time sobbing more violently than she had before. _Great. _When would he learn to stop sticking his beak into society's business? Had he just listened to Leo and let the boys in blue handle this one, he wouldn't have to be in his awkward, awkward position.

Taking in a short breath to gather new courage, Raph bent down to her level and rested his weight on his heels in an effort not to look as intimidating as he imagined she thought he appeared. "You hurt?" he asked, searching for eyes that were hidden underneath tightly shut eyelids.

Again, she started hyperventilating, repeatedly sucking in loud breaths of air in unmasked, open panic. "He... he... Oh god," she sobbed, unable to finish the sentence because of her wavering voice.

"S'okay," Raph told her, casting Leo a quick glance where he leaned over another body, gently turning him over to be able to see his front. Raph quickly turned back to look at the young woman, and when studying her where she sat in the darkness – her slender legs obsessively drawn up to her chest – he figured she must have been even younger than he had initially thought.

She didn't look to be a day over fourteen.

"You need an ambulance?" he carefully asked, earning eye contact with the girl for the first time. She sniffled through her tears, taking in a shaky breath in her first attempt to control herself.

"No," she swallowed, shaking her dark-haired head at him. "No, I'm fine, but..." trailing off, her uncontrolled gaze traveled to the immobile bodies lying in the alley. "They need to get to a hospital."

"A'right," Raphael nodded, slowly rising to his feet again. "Juz tell me who did this."

"Purple Dragons."

Shocked, Raph turned to look at his brother where he stood bent over one of the bodies, inspecting a tattoo on the left side of the man's neck. "What?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

"These guys are members of the Purple Dragons," Leo revealed, rising to his full height as he met his stare across the alley. "Or... or at least this one is," he then added, absently motioning to the still man with his right hand.

"Dead?" Raph straightforwardly wondered, chaotically trying to put the pieces of tonight's events together.

"No," Leonardo replied, shaking his head. "Badly beaten, but just unconscious."

"Okay..." Raph acknowledged, casting a quick glance at the frightened girl. "That still doesn't explain who did this," he said, turning back to look at his blue-masked sibling, who had the very same question spelled out across his shaded features.

"It was the ghost."

The frail, tear-filled voice cut through Raph's thoughts, and he didn't register the words until a moment later. "I'm sorry, _what_?" he questioned in bafflement, not quite sure what to make of her unexpected statement.

The girl sniffled again, hesitantly putting her thick, dark hair behind one of her ears in an attempt to get a hold of herself. "I saw him," she said, her eyes darting from one turtle to the other. "It was the vigilante ghost. I-I didn't believe them, I always figured they were urban stories go--"

"The what?" Raph interrupted her in her frantic rambling. Startled, as though she'd forgotten she was talking in the first place, the girl turned to look at him with a blank face. "Wha'd'ya call him?" Raph asked, narrowing his eyes in disbelief.

"The vigilante ghost," she repeated, worriedly looking between the two of them. "He-he looked just like they said he did. The mask, the--"

"Look," Raph firmly interrupted, pointing at the girl through the darkness. "I dunno _who_ you are, but you've obviously lost it."

"I'm telling the truth!" she insisted, getting visibly upset over his accusations. "He was real. I _saw_ him. He... he just came out of nowhere, and then I knew everything they'd said about him was true. All those stories, all the rumors... they're all true." Her voice then trailed off, and Raph took the opportunity to exchange looks with his elder brother, who stood dumbfounded a few feet away, not knowing what to make of her irrational story.

"He's back for revenge on the Purple Dragons," she spoke up, instantly earning his attention once mentioning the infamous street gang. "He wants blood," she continued, staring at the ground as she spoke, "a-and I don't know why he left me when... when he..." Unable to finish her sentence, she looked up at Raph with tears brimming in her eyes. "I mean, look what he did to them!" she cried, pointing to the bodies with her left hand while resting her forehead in the other. "_God._ I thought he was gonna kill us," she murmured in fear, as if speaking to no one but herself. "Next time he probably will."

"Us," Raphael acknowledged grimly. "Yer a Purple Dragon," he realized, turning to look at Leo once he spoke, who nodded solemnly in response. She wasn't a victim; she was one of them, albeit a very young member, and for some reason she'd been left unharmed when whomever it was that held the responsibility for this came in and beat the bravado out of the rest of them.

"You think maybe _now_ it's time to call the cops?" Leonardo quietly cut through his thoughts, referring to the conversation they had earlier on the rooftop.

Raphael nodded slowly, trying to grasp an intelligent thought through the fog that seemed to cloud his mind. Suddenly, eleven months didn't seem as long ago as it had when he first woke up this morning.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_Um... well, I don't think I should tell you that I've finally updated this fic. (The news are pretty obvious). I've been sick the last couple days and decided to sit down and work on one of my (too many unfinished) TMNT fics. The decision fell on this one, and here we are. Sweet story, innit? Anyway, it was beta read by the GLORIOUS talent - **Dierdre**. If you still haven't read any of her stuff, well... Quite frankly, I don't know what's wrong with you. Maybe you should have someone look into that? Heh. Just kidding. But seriously, though. I give lots of cred to Dierdre, escpecially to this chapter (which I wasn't feeling too happy about until she sent me the beta read version). Hope you guys like it. Don't forget to review. As for my review responses, they can be found under my author forum at Stealthy Stories, a TMNT forum which you can find the link to, just by going to my profile. That said, ENJOY! _

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Turning over for the forth time in the past minute, Raphael let out an aggravated sigh on behalf of his restless mind. Outside the room, he could hear the soft sound of the coffee maker, providing the quiet apartment with its only sign of intelligent life. Lacking anything else to do, his eyes were automatically drawn to the red brightness coming from the digital clock on the nearby bedside table.

10:22 p.m.

Whatever sleep he could have caught during the time spent in this bedroom, it was no longer a viable option for him.April would be home within the hour, and the very least he could do as her house sitter was to be awake once she walked through the front door. Taking in a deep breath, he sat up straight in bed, feeling his back muscles protest from having stayed horizontal for so long. With his bare feet touching the mild warmth that always seemed to blanket the reporter's floors, he rested his lower arms on his legs and spent a moment studying the white bedroom doorframe, noticing absently that one of the corners needed a quick repaint.

He was obviously stalling. Why else would he be studying the paint job on April's bedroom door?

Knowing that this was as good a time as any to join his brother in the kitchen, he finally rose to his feet and walked to the door. He pushed down the handle with uncharacteristic quiet, as though he were hoping Leo wouldn't notice him if he kept a low enough profile. Of course, the door always made that familiar squeak once opened, so whatever unconscious plan his mind had cooked up, it was quickly tossed aside.

Strong, dismissive steps took him through the short hallway and into the kitchen, where he found Leo on a barstool, the newspaper from this morning unfolded before him on the counter. Slightly relieved that his brother hadn't bothered to look up at his entrance, he set off to fetch a cup from one of the upper cabinets, picking the same one he'd used for breakfast this morning. He hadn't realized it before, but when he slipped his large index finger through the slightly worn ear of the blue cup, it occurred to him that he always picked this particular one whenever he was at April's.

As if having awaited his arrival, the machine conveniently finished brewing, and he was lucky enough to be the first to enjoy the steamy smell of hot, black coffee as he poured it into his cup. The calming sound of the liquid filling up the inside of the oval porcelain walls made his tongue water in anticipation.

Putting the pot back in its place, he hungrily lifted the cup to his mouth, his lips gently closing over the cool edge.

"You're not even gonna acknowledge me?"

Before he even got to taste the coffee, Raphael felt his body tense in irritation, secretly wishing he had eyes in the back of his head so he wouldn't be so temped to turn around just to prove his brother wrong.

"What?" he replied insouciantly, before taking a careful sip of the hot liquid. "Ya want a thank you for puttin' on coffee?"

The annoying sound of uncooperative newspaper pages being turned hesitated so briefly that only a brother would have noticed before the blue-masked turtle spoke again from behind him, "Did you sleep _all_ day?"

Raphael smiled briefly to himself at the obvious sign of topic switch. "Some," he answered shortly, downing a few more mouthfuls of coffee and ignoring the fact that both his tongue and palate would be entirely rid of their top layer of skin by tomorrow.

That was when the real question finally reared its ugly face. "And you're not even gonna mention it?"

"There's nothin' ta mention," he insisted, licking his lips.

"Right..." Leo humored him, still loudly turning the pages of his paper. "Can you honestly say that you haven't thought about him at all since last night?"

"Why would I have to?" Raph nonchalantly replied. "I ain't having this conversation with you, so ya can juz stop tryin' out different approaches ta stick yer nose in my business."

The noisy sound of the newspaper finally being put down on the counter alerted Raph that this conversation was far from over. "Be that as it may," Leonardo said in a tone that tried to remain even and controlled, "we still have to decide on how to tell April."

"What?" Raph asked in bafflement, turning around to meet his brother's firm stare for the first time since his arrival. "Are you fucking kidding me? We don't have to tell her shit."

"S'cuse me?" Leo said, his eye ridges rising in mild shock.

"What good would it do her?" Raph asked rudely, setting down his cup on the counter behind him. "I don't think she needs ta deal with old wounds like this one when coming back from a funeral."

"People were violently attacked a block away from her home," Leo countered calmly. "I think she deserves to know."

"They weren't people, Leo," Raph firmly pointed out. "Purple Dragons, rememba'?"

"Whatever, Raph. There was a fight right down the street, and she needs to be more careful now. Someone very dangerous is using her neighborhood as his personal playground."

"Fine, then we'll tell her ta stay on her toes," Raph angrily agreed. "But we leave the 'vigilante ghost' out of it."

Leo narrowed his eyes in exasperation. "My god, Raph, why are you being such a--"

Before the blue-masked turtle had the chance to finish his sentence, the sound of a key being turned in the look shifted their attention to the front door. It soon opened to reveal April, who was pulling a small suitcase on wheels behind her as she entered the apartment, her other hand still holding the keys.

"Hey, guys," she said lightly. As she turned around to close the door behind her, Raph took the opportunity to stare gravely at Leo, making sure he wouldn't bring up the issue of their dead friend supposedly stalking the streets just outside of her apartment.

Unaware of the heated conversation she'd conveniently interrupted, the reporter turned around to face them with a tired yet, as always, kind smile. "Everything go all right?" she asked, walking into the kitchen with her suitcase trailing behind her.

Raphael kept his gaze locked on Leo, although he could clearly notice the flush of worry that seemed to wash over their friend's recently blissful features through the corner of his right eye, where her attention almost frantically darted between the two of them.

"Raph?" she asked, earning his eye contact almost instantly. "What's going on?"

There was a long moment of silence, wherein April's worry seemed to almost overpower her, until Raphael finally opened his mouth to answer, "Nothin'. We were juz talking, is all," he said, exchanging a tense glance with Leonardo.

While his words had calmed her down considerably, there was still a hint of doubt in her tone as she spoke. "About what?" she asked, letting go of her suitcase and stopping to look at both of her friends.

Again, Raph turned to meet his brother's eyes, his own stare reminding them of their previous conversation. The moment seemed to last a bit too long, though, for April soon pushed the subject a second time:

"Guys...?"

"There was a fight in one of the alleys down the street," Leo finally revealed, causing April to turn her head in his direction.

"A fight?" she questioned, her face twisting with worry. "My god. Was someone hurt?"

"Raph and I went over there to check it out," Leo explained in a serious tone. "Someone had beaten up a bunch of Purple Dragons, so we called the cops to let them know where to look." April acknowledged his words with a small dip of her head, and he continued, "But the perpetrator is still out there somewhere, so try and be extra careful from hereon out, okay?"

"Of course," April nodded briskly. "Then again," she added, putting her keys on the kitchen table and proceeding to take off her black, knee-length leather coat, "how bad can a person be if all they're guilty of is cleaning the streets of those Dragons?" Whipping her wet hair across her left shoulder, she hung her dripping coat across the back of one of her kitchen chairs and finally met their eyes.

"Well," Leo began hesitantly, "you never know for sure what this person's reasons were for attacking them. After all, he's proven to be very dangerous."

Raph nodded in agreement, relieved his brother hadn't repeated one of his many bad habits and actually told her the truth. "Yeah," he said, earning the brunette's attention. "An' for all we know it was prolly juz anotha' gang, fightin' ta move up the scale, y'know?"

"You've got a point," April said, taking a moment to think about it. "I'll make sure to keep my eyes open whenever I go outside." She wrung her brown curls clean of rainwater with her fingers. "So," she then said in a refreshing tone, "you two have any fun while staying here?" Walking passed them to fetch a cup for herself, she missed the bitter looks of amusement the two brothers exchanged behind her back.

Raph was the one to answer. "We didn't kill each otha', if that's what'cha mean."

Turning around with a half amused expression, April closed the top cabinet. "Clever," she said, as Raph instantly moved out of the way to give her full access to the coffee maker. "Seriously, though," she spoke with her back turned to them. "Wha'd'ya do? I mean, besides alerting the cops to that fight," she added briefly, turning around with her cup of coffee almost nudging her bottom lip.

"Not much, really," Leo said, putting his forearms to the bar counter. "We watched some TV, fought over the remote. You know, the usual business."

Smiling knowingly behind her cup of coffee, April said, "I can imagine."

"What about you?" Leo then asked, his face sobering up a bit. "How was the funeral?"

"Oh, you know how those things are." She shook her head tiredly at the memory. "People giving endless speeches, tears, pain and just plain awkwardness; I had an all right time, considering."

Nodding understandingly, Raphael leaned his shell against the counter and crossed his arms over his plastron. He'd never actually been to a funeral – for obvious reasons – but he could definitely relate to the agony and unease that came when being around people after someone's death. It wasn't something he wanted to go through a second time.

"Though, the whole time, I couldn't help thinking about _him_," she added, much to Raph's dismay. She must have noticed it, too, because she briefly met his eyes with an apologetic, almost guilty look, before hesitantly continuing, "I know it's been almost a year, but apart from today, it's the last funeral I've been to. ...And _then_ I couldn't help feeling guilty for mourning someone else during poor Audrey's funeral," she added, laughing in spite of herself.

"It's not something you could control," Leo said softly, offering some words of comfort in the suddenly tense kitchen. "The relationship you had with Casey... it was just entirely different than the one you had with your late neighbor. I'm sure she would've understood."

"Yeah," April said, Raphael quietly observing her as she wistfully caressed her lips with the cool edge of her coffee cup. "I guess."

* * *

_Ascending the fire escape, Raph finally reached the platform that was attached to April's apartment. With one knee pushed down against the steely bottom – the kneepad absorbing any possible pain resulting from its scabrous surface – he then rose to approach her living room window. He cast a swift glace over his shoulder, making sure no probing neighbors in the building across from hers happened to look out their windows just in time to catch a bulky figure in a trench coat climbing inside New York's most famous news reporter's window. Once certain that the coast was clear, he then gently slid the window upwards, the wood squeaking slightly in protest._

_Good thing they never had to be stealthy and actually break into this place, because her old, time forsaken windows would most likely – if not certainly – give them away. Once the gap was big enough for him to fit through, he carefully moved aside a flowerpot that stood on the windowsill and climbed inside, closing the window almost completely behind him._

_Turning around to have a good look at the dimly lit kitchen and living room, he took off his fedora and held it possessively in his right hand as he stepped further into the apartment._

_"April?"_

_When no answer came, he lazily tossed his hat on the couch beside him and spared one last glance out the window, where nothing but his own reflection could be seen in the pitch-black darkness. "April?" he then called out a second time, walking up to the kitchen counter, where the two paper bags of food and everyday necessities stood ready._

Maybe she's asleep_, he briefly considered. If that truly was the case, however, he couldn't possibly just get their stuff and leave. Splinter had taught him better manners than that._

_Picking up a DVD case that rested on the countertop, he read the cover, on which was emblazoned in big, red capital letters: 'AGENT RED.' Turning it over to survey the back, Raph quickly realized it was a pointless action movie with none other than Dolph Lundgren – the King of Turkeys himself. April wouldn't possibly rent something like this… unless of course, she had a gun pointed to her head._

Though I guess Casey would_, he considered with a small smirk. This was definitely a flick that would fit the Brooklyn Beast's embarrassing taste… that and every movie starring Steven Segal._

_Suddenly alerted by the sound of a door closing, Raph instantly looked up and put the movie back on the counter. Peeking down the corridor that led to April's bedroom, he found his friend stopping in her tracks upon discovering his presence._

_"Oh," she said in surprise, almost shamefully. "I, uh... I didn't realize you were here."_

_"Yeah, I just came ta get our stuff," Raph explained with a dull nod._

_"Right." April flashed a silly smile. "I completely forgot," she said, shaking her head at her own forgetfulness. Looking closer, Raph quickly noticed the wet streaks on her cheeks and the redness around her eyes and nose._

_Concern immediately blossomed inside of him._

_"You okay?" he asked carefully, not really sure if it was his business to ask._

_"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," April said, forcing yet another smile. "Just had a little argument, no big deal."_

_"Case?" Raph asked, knowing the answer to that question even before she nodded._

_"Yeah, but it's nothing," she quickly said. "I called him about this movie we were gonna watch..."_

_"Agent Red?" Raphael interrupted with half a grin._

_Returning his smile, April chuckled through her tears. "Yeah, that's the one."_

_"So what, uh... what happened?" he asked, not sure whether or not he was stepping on dangerous ground. But as soon as her tears seemed to return with a vengeance, he certainly got his answer._

_"Apparently he... he forgot and was on his way to this hockey game when I called. He said he couldn't give up his ticket," she said, silent tears raining down her emotional face. "Of course," she then added with a brief chuckle, "I had to get all upset and start screaming at him, and things kinda just went downhill from there, you know?"_

_Raphael simply nodded understandingly, not knowing what else to do. He was never good with tears. Any one of his brothers would have been a much better person to be here in his place, even Mike who could never stay serious for more than a minute. At least that would have been sixty seconds of saying and doing the right thing, before he'd inevitably try to lighten the mood with another one of his bad jokes._

_"So," April continued, trying to act as though she wasn't even crying. "Did you check to see if everything's there?" she asked, motioning to the grocery bags standing on the counter with her left hand, which still held onto the portable phone. "They didn't have that cereal you asked for, so I, uh… I hope Mikey won't mind Rice Crispies."_

_"Crispies'll be fine," Raph said supportively. The two of them drifted off into silence upon meeting each other's eyes, April's still flooded with tears._

_"Yeah, cuz I figured, you know," April sniffled, trying to retain some kind of control over herself, "there's a prize in the box, so maybe that will distract him from the fact that they aren't his usual breakfast… or at least make up for it," she weakly added, as though it was taking everything in her power to keep talking._

_Not knowing what to say, or if he should even say something in the first place, Raphael simply nodded empathically, wishing he could sometimes just make Casey's thoughtless decisions for him. Because, god, he couldn't stand watching her cry!_

_"Raph..." April finally broke down with a loud sob. She walked the two steps that parted them and buried her heated face in the soft curve between his neck and left shoulder, her tears rubbing off on his skin. "Why does he always do this?" she cried, desperate for answers, her fisted hands reaching up to rest on the upper plates of his plastron, unaware of how he suddenly tensed at her touch._

_Instinctively, Raph's arms awkwardly reached around the petite form of his friend, hesitantly stroking her slightly trembling back with his right hand. "S'okay. He doesn't mean anything by it," he quietly told her, feeling painfully torn between his two friends. "If he had any idea how upset you got by this, he wouldn't have gone ta that game."_

_"Yeah, right," April snorted in disbelief._

_"Of course he wouldn't," Raph insisted, still stroking her back. "He cares about you; you know that. If ya called 'im and he could actually hear that yer in tears because of what he did, he would come straight back 'ere."_

_Looking up from the safety of his arms, April met his eyes through her glassy tears. "You really think so?"_

_"Hey, who's the guy's best friend?" Raph asked with a playful smirk. "I'm tellin' ya, I know these things."_

_April broke into a short chuckle, moving her hand up to her face to wipe away the tears. "Thanks, Raph."_

_"Go an' call him," he said, giving her an encouraging smile. "I'll just head back to the othas with the groceries. I'm sure Mike's hallucinating about singin' pizzas by now."_

_Laughing again, April disentangled herself from his arms and went to call Casey for the second time that night. Suddenly stopping in her tracks to look over her shoulder, she wondered, "How'd you get so good at this emotional stuff, anyway?"_

_"What?" Raph asked in return. "Yer not planning for this ta get out ta the othas, are ya? Cuz, ya know, I have a reputation ta protect."_

_"Right," April smiled knowingly. "Raphael, He with the Heart of Stone. Got it. Your secret's safe with me," she promised, finally heading back to her bedroom, evidently in a much better mood._

_As soon as the brunette was out of sight, Raph's shoulders visibly relaxed, and he blew out a long, tense breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. Turning around to the counter, he quickly collected the grocery bags in his arms and held them close to his plastron, where the ghostly sensation of her warm body still resided. He, out of all his brothers, was definitely not the right person to comfort April, he decided with a heart that finally seemed to loosen up inside of him. Especially not when it hurt him so much to see her in tears, tears his best friend was responsible for, nonetheless._


End file.
